The Last Temptation of Harvey Dent
by MyOtherPenName
Summary: Crossover with Angel the Series. Good. Evil. Cordelia. Lilah Morgan. Oh yeah, and a catfight to save or damn the soul of Harvey Dent.
1. Things to Do When You're Dead

The Last Temptation of Harvey Dent

By MyOtherPenName

I don't own Batman, Harvey Dent or any of the other DCU characters in this story. I also don't own Cordelia Chase, Lilah Morgan or any of the other wonderful inventions of Joss Whedon and his Merry Men.

I do own the idea, for whatever it's worth.

Chapter 1 – Things to Do When You're Dead

Everybody has an opinion on what happens to you after you're dead. Some people believe in heaven and/or hell. Others believe in reincarnation. Then there are the really depressing people who think there's nothing, that once you're dead that's it. Game over. Finished.

Maybe it's different for everybody. Or maybe it was different for me because I'm special – no, scratch that – it's _definitely_ because I'm special.

I'm Cordelia Chase and I used to be dead.

That was before the Powers-That-Be stepped in and brought me back. Sort of. I'm still dead, technically. And I don't need to eat or drink or any of that. I can be solid to the touch if I want to be. Or not. It's pretty cool actually and it comes in handy for the job that the PTB have me doing.

Duh – I'm helping the hopeless.

Get with the program, people.

Okay, they're not exactly hopeless. They're on the edge and they need my special brand of charm to wake them up and get them back on the side of the good. It's not easy, either. Some of these people have done terrible things. A few of them aren't interested in not burning in hell. Lucky for me I have a lot of time on my hands and even luckier because I can be really, really persuasive.

But here's the thing about the Universe; for every good, there's an evil. While I'm trying to save souls, the guys on the other team are trying to corrupt them. And every once in a while I find myself face to face with the opposition.

"Hello, Lilah."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It figures.

I should have known something was up when the Senior Partners assigned me to this particular matter. They rarely get involved in recruiting. When I was alive, I avoided recruiting like the plague. Today's obsequious law students are tomorrow's backstabbing associates. Why encourage them?

Unfortunately, that's how I'm being punished. When Lindsey double-crossed the Senior Partners, they stuck him in a hell-dimension where he got his heart cut out on a daily basis. My punishment for trying to team up with Team Angel and/or the Beast after the entire L.A. Wolfram & Hart office got wiped out is being put in charge of recruiting.

I think Lindsey got off a lot easier than I did.

Recruiting means I spend a lot of time going from law school to law school, interviewing interns that will eventually become over-worked little associates. See: backstabbing, above. Every now and again, I get to recruit someone with experience. Someone who's done something to catch the eye of the firm.

That's when this miserable little task becomes interesting. That's when I find myself competing with the white hats. Well, with one particular white hat.

And wouldn't you know it, she's the one who killed me.


	2. And Here's the Pitch

Chapter 2 Ð And HereÕs the Pitch

Chapter 2 – And Here's the Pitch

"You're too late."

Cordelia rolled her eyes at me. "If I was too late, you'd be walking out instead of in."

"Can't pull the wool over your eyes," I shrugged. "You may as well give up. This one's not going to be repenting his evil ways any time soon."

"Wanna bet on it?"

"Careful. The guys you work for think gambling's a sin." I scanned the crowded restaurant until I saw the door at the back with the burly men standing guard in front of it. Of course he would be in the secluded VIP room. I turned back to Cordelia. "I'll take your little wager. We each get two minutes with him, no interruptions and no tricks. You let me make my pitch, I let you make yours."

Her brown eyes narrowed as she considered my offer, trying to find the catch. "Fine," she agreed warily. "You go first."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Idiot. She was going to need eternity to smarten up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They looked like they were sober, Harvey Dent noted. Usually when women approached his table, they were taking advantage of liquid – or some other kind of chemically-induced – courage. Of course, that was the whole point of sitting in the secluded and over-priced back room of the Iceberg Lounge. The thrill-seekers and sorority girls on dares were kept out.

These two didn't look like hookers, either.

They stopped several paces from his table and argued in a hushed whisper. Finally, the younger one threw up her hands in frustration.

"Fine," she snapped. "Go ahead."

The older one smirked and then gave him a look as if they were sharing some kind of secret.

Harvey gave a brief nod to his head of security as she approached. Message delivered, his men split their attention between the two women while Harvey gave his guest his full attention.

Two-Face was also giving her his undivided attention and whispering ideas about what to do with her.

Ignoring the suggestions got harder as the woman dropped into the chair across from him. Normally women who weren't Selina or that bitch, Poison Ivy looked him in the face and then looked everywhere else. Even the hookers, no matter how much extra he paid, couldn't look at him for long.

This woman didn't just look. She met his eyes without any kind of reaction whatsoever other than a hint of amusement playing around her lips.

"Mr. Dent –"

"Two-Face," he cut her off, just to see if could rattle her.

Her smile – more of a smirk, really -- remained fixed in place. "I'm here to make an offer, gentlemen. I represent Wolfram & Hart."

Here it came. Another half-assed plea to give up his strangle-hold on the city's organized crime and turn himself in because _this_ was the law firm that could clear his name and help him on the road to recovery. Even the Bat knew the city was better off with him running the crime families. At least, _half_ the time they were. "Forget it, sweetheart. We're not turning ourselves in and we don't care which plastic surgeon you've got lined up to sweeten your deal. Your little law firm is going to have to make a name for itself with somebody else. Killer Moth might be interested."

"We don't need to make a name for ourselves, gentlemen. We've been around for a very, very long time." She gestured and his waiter set a glass of white wine in front of her. "My name is Lilah Morgan and I'd like to offer you a position with our firm."

Two-Face growled and rattled the bars of his cage. Harvey, however, drew a deep calming breath. "Let me get this straight. You want me to give up my life of crime and insanity and do what, exactly? Become your new ad campaign about what a compassionate law firm you've got?"

"Wolfram & Hart is many things, gentlemen, but one thing we've never been called is compassionate. And we're not asking you to give up any of your extracurricular activities, especially when those activities can bring in all sorts of new clients. We love a rainmaker and with your years in the field, I have no doubt you'd enhance our bottom line considerably."

It was getting harder and harder to ignore Two-Face's suggestions. Harvey leaned forward but the bitch just would not flinch. "The only bottom line we're enhancing is our own."

"And that's worked so well for you these past few years." Lilah sipped her white wine. "We'd like to bring you to the next level as the head our of our new Gotham City office."

"In case you haven't noticed, Ms. Morgan, they tend not to let crazy people practice law, let alone manage offices."

"We can make it happen."

"And we'll bet you've got a team of plastic surgeons ready so that your clients can keep their three martini lunches down when they look at us."

"Plastic surgery is over-rated. We have other methods to deal with your appearance if that's something you're interested in."

"And if I'm not?" Two-Face grated, seizing control. His victory was short-lived when Harvey firmly shoved him aside.

Lilah took another sip of wine. "Well, Two-Face, you'll find our clients – and your new co-workers -- don't care about your appearance or your manners as much as Harvey does."

"_Co-workers_?! You're offering him a _job_?!" The younger woman that Lilah had argued with earlier was giving Lilah a look that could only be described as a death glare.

"We'd offer one to you but we have standards." Lilah made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Now go away. The grown-ups are having a conversation."

Betty and Veronica were arguing over him. Harvey didn't know whether to be amused or confused. Women just did not argue over Harvey Dent. At least, not lately. And when Two-Face made a lewd suggestion about how the ladies could settle their argument, Harvey found that he wasn't rushing to dismiss the suggestion outright.

The younger one was pretty, in a bitchy sort of way. He raised an eyebrow at her. "And you are?"

"Her name is Cordelia Chase and if you're thinking of taking career advice from her, bear in mind that her previous occupations include unemployed actress and secretary." Lilah's tone was as condescending as her smirk.

"Office manager," Cordelia snapped. "Your time is up. My turn."

"She's here to save your immortal soul," Lilah smirked. "Do you boys really want to hear any of that?"

No, they really didn't. On the other hand, Cordelia's presence really seemed to piss off Lilah and since they'd been working so hard to rattle Lilah, keeping Cordelia around seemed like the thing to do. "Let her talk."

"Well, then." Lilah leaned back in her chair. "I've always wanted to hear this pitch."


	3. Who Will Save Your Soul?

Chapter 3 Ð Who Will Save Your Soul

Chapter 3 – Who Will Save Your Soul?

Did she really think I believed her for even a second? Over-confidence was always Lilah's problem, not to mention the problem of everybody who ever worked for Wolfram & Hart. She could listen in to her heart's content. It wasn't going to affect my sales pitch one way or the other.

I fixed Harvey with my sternest look, the one I used on Angel whenever he was doing that annoying self-sacrificing-cut-everybody-out thing he liked to do. Some people needed a soft touch. Angel and Harvey Dent weren't those people. "Do you have any idea how badly you've screwed up your life?!"

"I think you're in for a spanking," Lilah stage-whispered to Harvey.

He snickered and then gave me a good look at his scarred face. I supposed most people would have been wigged out by the eye that seemed to bug right out of the scarred left side or that what was left of his lips seemed to be contorted into a permanent scowl. Most people haven't seen demons and zombies. Compared to them, Harvey Dent was a Playgirl centerfold.

Besides, I was already dead. It wasn't like he could kill me with his looks, personality or the two guns he was carrying. "You've done a lot of horrible things. You were doing so well eighteen months ago, when Batman left you as Gotham City's protector—"

"How the hell do you know that?!" He cut me off with a growl of anger. There was no doubt which personality _that _was. His head cocked slightly to the side and then he relaxed ever so slightly. Harvey was back in control. Even then, his gaze was cold and deadly. "You can tell the Bat I'm not interested in whatever scraps he's offering this time. Now get lost."

"You heard the man." Lilah gave me a little finger-wave. "Buh-bye."

Her side didn't have any rules. Mine did. If the person I was trying to save told me to go, I had to go. That didn't mean I couldn't come back later, though. Or offer one last piece of advice. "Before you accept her offer, Harvey, do me a favor. Flip for it."

Wordlessly, Harvey reached into his pocket and produced the coin that was responsible for three hundred and eleven deaths. He flipped the coin with such practiced ease and then caught it without even following its trajectory. Glancing down at the coin, his gaze hardened and when he looked back at me, it was the positively malevolent gaze of Two-Face. "Bad heads."

Lilah held up her glass of wine in a toast and winked at me. "Welcome to Wolfram & Hart, gentlemen."

My job just got that much harder. Instead of just saving Harvey Dent, now I had to save Gotham City.


	4. And There's Even a 401k

Chapter 4 Ð And ThereÕs Even a 401(k)

Chapter 4 – And There's Even a 401(k)

Lilah was waiting for him just inside the lobby.

The Wolfram & Hart building was one of the newly constructed office towers that were rising up around Gotham City as part of the efforts to rebuild following the earthquake and No Man's Land. It rose up 36 stories, all gleaming dark tinted glass with a granite plaque outside bearing the name of the firm. The interior smelled of new carpet and the new wood of the reception desk and paneling on the walls.

Although Harvey knew exactly how much time had passed since he'd set foot inside an office building for a purpose other than robbing or killing its occupants, it seemed like a lifetime ago. He felt completely out of place, especially with his four-man security detail. The lawyers passing through didn't even spare him a glance, however. Maybe they had Gotham's most wanted in their lobby every morning. Sure they did.

"Perhaps your men would like to meet with our Head of Security while we get you settled," Lilah suggested. "You'll find our security measures are more than adequate to protect you while you're here."

He rarely went anywhere without someone watching his back. On the other hand, this was supposed to be his office. Well aware that the eyes of his men and -- finally -- all the passing Wolfram & Hart employees were on him, Harvey got out his coin. Good heads. "That'll be fine."

His men knew better than to argue with the outcome of a coin toss but he could tell they were reluctant to leave him alone in this environment where clearly none of them belonged.

"Your office is on the 36th floor." Lilah walked towards the elevators. Within a second, an elevator opened its doors for them, as if eager to take him to what Lilah insisted on referring to as 'the next level of his career.'

The ride to the 36th floor was surprisingly quick and when the elevator doors opened this time, Harvey and Lilah were greeted by a smiling blonde holding out a mug of coffee to him and greeting him with a decidedly upbeat, "Hi, Boss!"

Lilah nodded in the blonde's direction. "Harvey, this is Harmony Kendall: your assistant."

Harmony was all soft, generous curves and perky cheerleader charm. Stupid, Harvey decided, but not a complete fool. And yet that smile stayed in place even as she got a close-up view of the face that terrified even the dumbest of Gotham's citizens. He reached for the mug, ignoring Two-Face's desire to stare down the front of her too-tight dress. Besides, there would be time for that later. "Thank you, Harmony."

"Is there anything else I can get you, Boss? The cafeteria has some sinfully delicious scones."

"Maybe later." He followed Lilah as she led him past what was obviously Harmony's desk to a large office. It was four times the size of his office when he'd been Gotham's D.A. Brand new copies of American Jurisprudence 2d – AmJur, as it was known among lawyers – filled the bookshelves, along with copies of the state and city laws, regulations and codes. There was a flat screen television mounted to the wall over a mini bar. In short, his office was everything he'd imagined private practice looked like when he was an underpaid civil servant.

Lilah rested against the doorframe. "I'll be back to check on you later. Harmony will help get you set up."

On cue, Harmony appeared with a note pad and pen. "Special Projects should have your license sorted out by tomorrow or the day after at the latest and you've got a meeting with—"

"Special Projects?" The law firms he knew had departments such as litigation and commercial practice. Not one of them had a special projects division.

"I knew you were going to ask that, " she mumbled with a slight frown. Harmony cleared her throat and read directly from her note pad. "Our Special Projects Team aims to provide a seamless integrated service to clients with out-of-the-ordinary situations."

"Seamless integrated service," he repeated.

Harmony nodded and then added brightly, "Out-of-the-ordinary situations."

"Like getting my license reinstated."

"Or human sacrifice."

Did Harmony have a sense of humor somewhere in that empty head? Before he could try to find out, she wrapped her hand around his upper arm and was steering him further down the hall. She had a very strong grip, he noted. "Now what? The executive washroom?"

"Not yet." She pushed him through the doorway of an office that was equal in size to his. Unlike his office, this one had a battered desk, a larger television and an even better-stocked mini-bar. "This is Two-Face's office. You know, for when he needs it."

Two-Face suggested he might need the black leather sofa and his secretary later that afternoon. Harvey told him in no uncertain terms to shut up.

"Boss? Guys?"

One of the drawbacks of having two disagreeing personalities was that sometimes the disagreements were audible. "He gets out of his cage sometimes."

Harmony emitted a little laugh. "It doesn't bother me. What does bother me is being called a secretary. I'm an executive assistant. There's a difference."

He waited but an explanation of the difference didn't seem to be forthcoming.

"Also, you're really a hottie but I'm sorry; you're not my type."

"Normal?"

"Human."

"So your type would be what? Dogs?"

Harmony giggled. "That's funny, Boss. They didn't tell me you had a sense of humor. My last boss never cracked a joke. When he wasn't all doom, gloom and apocalypse, he was lecturing me on how to be a better vampire. Don't eat the humans. Drink bottled blood. And he never, ever had any confidence in me."

"You're a vampire?" Was Harmony believing that she was a vampire any worse than Catman, who thought he was a Rogue? And did she really wonder why her former boss had no confidence in her?

"Yup."

"You are aware that it's daytime?"

"Uh-huh." The smile on her face remained fixed and then all at once she jerked as understanding finally dawned. "The glass on the building is necro-tempered."

"Necro-tempered. Of course." Total. Whack. Job.

"Ohmigod! It's almost ten! We've got to get you back in your office! Mr. Manners will be here any second." She took off at a trot down the hall.

Mr. Manners? Harvey followed at a more leisurely pace. Were they sending someone to instruct him in etiquette? No. The man standing in his office was definitely not some etiquette expert. What he was, Harvey realized, was one of his bosses.

Everything about the man exuded power, from the precise cut and fit of his charcoal grey suit to the expression on his face. Look too quickly, Harvey thought, and it was possible to mistake that expression for somebody kind, somebody who cared about your well-being. Somebody who would tell you how disappointed they were in your performance as they put a bullet in your brain, Two-Face agreed.

"Harvey." Manners greeted him with a warm smile. "I'm Holland Manners. I'll be your liaison to the Senior Partners. On their behalf, I'd like to welcome you and Two-Face to Wolfram & Hart. As I'm sure you've noticed by now, we pride ourselves on providing seamless integrated service to our clients. More than likely, you're wondering exactly what that means. Perhaps it's the brainchild of some white shoe ad agency, a meaningless slogan. I'm here to tell you, Harvey, that it's no mere slogan. We mean every word."

Any suspicions that they were being played as some kind of marketing ploy were replaced by the sense that maybe, just maybe they were involved in something bigger than even Lex Luthor could have dreamed up.

"Wolfram & Hart has a long and celebrated history, gentlemen." Manners started walking towards the elevator and it was assumed without question that they would follow. "We inspire confidence and success through the unique way in which we undertake business. Fearless and with a strong commercial stance, we've worked with an ever-expanding client base to take both them and the firm to the next stage. We've always got an eye on the future, and it's fair to say, gentlemen, that we've always got an eye on you." His smile was warm, almost fatherly as he stepped into the elevator.

They weren't fooled for a second by that smile.

"Are you ready to meet your staff, gentlemen?" Manners asked. "They are most certainly eager to meet you."

Definitely bigger than anything Luthor could dream up.

They got in the elevator.


End file.
